Harry Potter and the Bond of Hearts
by Sweet Honey-sempai
Summary: 6th year AU. In the wake of the Second War, death, betrayal, and secrets emerge, as do unexpected allies and romance. Harry has a lot to learn about what will defeat Voldemort as chaos, good and bad, swirls around him.
1. Letters

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter

**Genre:** Drama, Angst, Romance, Action-Adventure

**Rating:** T, for violence and language

**Spoilers:** Books 1—5, some from Book 6. Will continue even after Book 7 is released, unless the book is so phenomally bad that it turns me into a Potter-hater

**Side Note:** Right, so, looking for something better than HBP to be Harry's 6th year (restrains self from long Book Loathing Rant). So yes, this is a definite 6th-year Alternate Universe.

And maybe fourth time's the charm, considering the trouble I've had with this story…

* * *

Letters

* * *

_Dear Harry James Potter, _

_Enclosed, please find your Ordinary Wizarding Levels results._

_Astronomy__: Theory-E. Practical-P. Overall: A. Ability to Continue Course: Permitted._

_Care of Magical Creatures__: Theory-O. Practical-O. Overall-O. Ability to Continue Course: Strongly Advised._

_Charms__: Theory-O. Practical-E. Overall-O. Ability to Continue Course: Strongly Advised._

_Defense Against The Dark Arts__: Theory-O. Practical-O. Overall-O. Ability to Continue Course: Strongly Advised._

_Divination__: Theory-T. Practical-T. Overall: T. Ability to Continue Course: Not permitted._

_Herbology__: Theory-O. Practical-E. Overall-O. Ability to Continue Course: Strongly Advised._

_History of Magic__: Written-T. Ability to Continue Course: Not permitted._

_Potions__: Theory-A. Practical-E. Overall-E. Ability to Continue Course: Not permitted._

_Transfiguration__: Theory-E. Practical-O. Overall-O. Ability to Continue Course: Strongly Advised._

_Complete Student Average: E_

_Good luck in your next year of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

_Sincerely,_

_Professor Griselda Marchbanks_

* * *

Harry stared at the letter in his hands. How appropriate that it came on the day before his 16th birthday. Nice early birthday gift.

His eyes scanned the letter again. He still could not believe he had managed to land an E in Potions. He could only assume he had some friends in high places. Apart from that, he was not especially surprised with the grades he got.

The image of Sirius heartily congratulating him on his report card suddenly struck him, and a hard, tight knot formed in his throat. Sirius would have shrugged off History of Magic and Divination, calling them the two most useless classes in Hogwarts that no employer would ever bother kicking up a fuss about. He would have commended Harry as a chip of the old block, landing an O in Transfiguration, James' specialty. He would've laughed about Harry putting one over on Snape, attaining a passing grade but not have to attend his class, either.

Harry swallowed. His mind turned to the Durselys, eating dinner downstairs. He could see them in his mind—Vernon was drinking and spluttering about his company, Petunia was right across the table, eyes shining and nodding her bony head up and down until she bore a hole in her collar bone, and Dudley was eating everything, even right off his mother's plate.

Apathetic, cruel, false, all of them. If Sirius had been cleared…

'I still wouldn't be safe,' Harry mentally conceded to himself. Living with his aunt kept him alive. Voldemort could only kill him physically, as in beating him to death, which that particular wizarding supremacist would not deign to do. He still couldn't kill Harry magically, as long as Petunia was alive.

There was a beating of wings, and Harry looked up as an owl disappeared out his open window, having dropped another letter on his floor. Harry snatche dit up, thankful for the distraction. Minerva McGonagall's name adorned the return address.

* * *

_Dear Harry James Potter, _

_Enclosed, please find your list of school books for your 6th year of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, according to the O.W.L result you received. Kindly send a list of classes that you are willing to pursue to Hogwarts._

_Also, due to the current situation, Defense Against The Dark Arts, Charms, Transfiguration, and Potions have become mandatory classes, regardless of O.W.L. results._

_The list is as follows:_

_Reading The Stars__ by Andromeda Tonks (Astronomy)_

_Lifestyles of the Wild and Fantastic__ by Philip Wolfgang (Care of Magical Creatures)_

_Practical and Extraordinary Charms__ by Grace Meir (Charms)_

_Defensive and Offensive Magic__ by Osbourn Bailey (Defense Against Dark Magic)_

_Salts of the Earth__ by Jasmine Noam (Herbology)_

_Moste Potente Potions__ by Thorpe Everett (Potions)_

_Shape-Shifting of Magical Objects_

* * *

Harry nearly laughed at the standard textbook for Potions. He wondered if they'd be brewing some Polyjuice Potion. Heaven knew that he, Hermione, and Ron would pass Potions this year.

As for the Astronomy text…Andromeda Tonks. Nymphadora's mother and Sirius's favorite cousin. He might as well take the class just out of respect for Sirius. After all, Sirius's entire family was named after stars. It really was not surprising that Andromeda had written a book about it.

He was pulled out of his thoughts by a loud thump outside his window. He whirled around in the tattered revolving chair he had inherited from Dudley to see another owl stumble into his room and collapse onto his floor.

"Pigwidgeon?" Harry stood up as the bird clumsily pulled himself up. He knelt down and pulled a bright red Howler out of Pgiwdgeon's unsharpened talons. As he wondered what he possibly could have done wrong, he noticed a dark red stain on it, its shade contrasting that of the Howler's. It looked like blood.

His stomach seemed to evaporate as his trembling fingers tore open the letter. Fred's panic-stricken voice suddenly filled the room.

"Harry, get the hell away from Privet Drive _now_! The Death Eaters are coming to kill your aunt! They found the Order's HQ and blew it apart, but they got that hag's portrait to tell them where you are first! Get your aunt and get your ass out of there _now_, or you'll all be f-cking pavement pizza! Go! _Now_!"

Harry dropped the Howler and jumped up.

"Hedwig, take Pig and get to Diagon Alley. Don't you dare leave until I get there."

Hedwig clipped her beak. She floated across the room, picked Pig up by his back, and soared out the open window.

Harry snatched up his wand. "Accio broomstick! Accio cloak! Accio photo album!"

His three most precious items shot across the room into his hands. He muttered a shrinking charm and shoved them into his pocket, before swiping his two letters off his desk and thrust them in next to the three before.

Then he ran, thundering down the stairs, nearly tripping as he took them two at a time. He rounded the banister, blindly sprinting through the living room before bursting into the kitchen.

"What do you want, boy?" Vernon demanded, glaring at the out-of-breath boy. "Thought you said you weren't hungry! Well, it's too late now if you want food…"

"It's Voldemort!" Harry yelled.

All talk ceased. Petunia's eye dilated. Her mind went reeling back in time, back to the letter Dumbledore had attached to Harry's basket…"Your sister is dead…as long as you are alive, Harry will live…"

"He's sent his followers!" Harry continued. They know where we are, and they want to kill Aunt Petunia to get to me!"

Out of everything Harry said, Vernon's mind hooked onto "kill Aunt Petunia". He stood up with a violent convulsion, his chair falling backward.

"Get out!" he shouted, face turning beet-red. "I won't let your damnable kind kill my wife!"

"Vernon, you don't understand!" Petunia yelled, white-faced. "If Harry leaves my side, he'll die!"

"As well he should!" Vernon shouted back, masking his surprise. "The world's better off without him!"

"Look, if you won't escape for my sake, then you might want to do it for the fact that Voldemort's followers have absolutely no qualms about killing all of you!" Harry exploded, his face burning. "They'll think it's nice practice to kill a couple Muggles!"

Petunia let out a terrified squeak. "Vernon, you take Dudley and go to Marge's. I'll take Harry."

"No!" Vernon protested angrily. "Let the boy run alone. I wont' risk having you—"

"I'm not letting Harry die!"

All three men stared, flabbergasted, at Petunia. An air of determined control had replaced the nervous, simpering look usually omnipresent about her.

"Vernon, take Dudley and go. Harry, you're coming with me."

A loud explosion suddenly went off from outside. The glass from the living room window shattered.

"Quickly! Now!"

She spun around to the kitchen counter and grabbed something Harry couldn't see. Without further glance in her husband and son's direction, she sped around the table and snatched up Harry's arm. She gave him a sharp tug that knocked the wind out of him, and raced out the back door.

She halted suddenly in the backyard, causing Harry to nearly crash into her, and turned around to face her nephew.

"Your broomstick. Get it out."

"How'd you—"

"Never mind that now. Just get it out."

Harry fumbled in his jeans pocket for the Firebolt. He finally felt bristles, akin to those on a toothbrush, and pulled the broom out by the tail. Hurriedly he muttered the Engorgement Charm and grabbed the restored broom by the handle.

"Did Dumbledore give you that Invisibility Cloak of your father's? And don't bother asking me how I know; just answer."

"Yes," Harry said, cutting his question off.

"Get it out, and then get on the broom."

Harry felt around his pocket for a piece of cloth. He seized it between his fingers and extracted it, enlarging it as he did. Throwing the cloak over his head, he settled on the broom, feeling the weight of his aunt as she settled herself behind him and threw a length of the cloak over her own head. Harry braced his feet on the ground and kicked off.

Nothing.

"Harry!"

He's head snapped around. Holding onto the visible tail of the Firebolt was a Death Eater, masked into anonymity.

From her apron pocket Petunia snatched up what she had taken from the counter. A wooden stirring spoon.

'Does she honesty believe she can scare off—'

"Petrificus Totalus!"

Harry's panicked, bewildered thought was cut off as the Death Eater suddenly froze in place. Even his eyes stood stock-still behind the slits in his mask. Venomously Petunia kicked the Death Eater off the broom. He fell with a thud to the ground.

"What are you waiting for, fool? Go! _Now_!"

Too astounded to say anything, Harry kicked off from the ground and the Firebolt took off from the Dursely's backyard.


	2. The Price of Surviving

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter

* * *

The Price of Surviving

* * *

"Where are we going?"

Harry turned his head around. Neither he nor his aunt had opened their mouth to speak one word for the flight up until that point.

"Diagon Alley. I sent Hedwig there. We're meeting with Fred and George."

"Who?"

"Oh, that's right. You never bothered to find out who they were." Petunia did not answer. "They're my best friend's older twin brothers. You know, the ones who left the candy for Dudley that made his tongue grow?"

"Oh…oh, yes, I remember," Petunia said awkwardly, and Harry urged his Firebolt on.

* * *

Harry touched down just in front of the Leaky Cauldron. He muttered the shrinking charm and stuffed his broom in his pocket and Petunai silently folded the Invisibility Cloak.

The Leaky Caudron was padlocked shut. Swearing under his breath, Harry pointed his wand and whispered, "Alohomora!"

A stream of yellow light emitted from his wand and the padlock fell open. He shoved the door open and ran to the back of the pub, Petunia following him through the emergency exit. As Petunia shut the door behind her, Harry tapped the last brick that would allow them entry into Diagon Alley. As the bricks moved away, Harry thought sourly that the sprawling streets lined with shops and bursting with activity was usually a welcome sight. Now, it seemed closed-in and quiet, almost dead.

"Harry!"

Harry reeled around towards the sound.

"Oh, thank God," George said, a rush of relieved air pouring out of him from where he stood on the threshold of Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes. "You're alive."

"George, what happened?" Harry asked, running toward the quieter twin. Petunia followed him at a small distance.

"Here, get inside and I'll explain everything," George said, holding the door open for Harry and Petunia to rush inside the shop.

All the practical joke paraphernalia was locked up in wooden cabinets, and covering the floor were bodies, some unconscious, some moaning in their sleep, and some wide awake, biting their lips so as not to scream.

"Harry!" a raspy voice whispered, and Harry whipped around to see Ron leaning in the corner of two walls. He was wrapped from head to toe in bandages, sickeningly reminiscent of a mummy.

"Ron!" Harry started for him.

"Don't!"

Fred's hand clasped onto Harry's arm and jerked him back.

"Ron just stopped bleeding; you might start it up again!"

"Fred, what happened? Why is everyone hurt?"

Fred sighed and conjured three chairs with a wave of his wand and a muttered incantation. Harry sat, as did Petunia.

"George and I were over here," Fred said, taking the third and final seat, "waiting for Mum and Dad to fire-call us. We've got a very strict timeline set up; they call the same time every night so we know they're okay. But it was three minutes after and they still hadn't turned up, so we Flooed over to find that Death Eaters had attacked Grimmauld Place and that old hag, Sirius' mum, told them where you and Hermione lived. So I sent a Howler to you and one to Hermione."

"We didn't know if it would make it to you in time," George cut in. "Because with Hermione…it didn't."

"Where is she?" Harry asked, feeling his heartbeat gain speed and his throat stop up.

"There," Fred said, gesturing painfully. Hermione lay on the ground, unconscious, a bandage wrapped around her forehead and right eye.

"What happened there?" Harry demanded, his mouth drying even as he spoke.

"They got…got her mum and dad," Fred said, biting back his words. "I found her there with this huge gaping wound on her head. She had a lamp thrown at her. I don't know…I guess…I guess they left her for dead."

Harry's fists and teeth clenched. His whole frame shook.

"What happened at your end?" George asked.

"Pig showed up with your Howler," Harry said, trying to keep his voice lest he lose control of it. "I sent Hedwig and Pig to you guys, and then I went downstairs to warn my relatives. I don't know where my uncle and cousin are, but my aunt came with me. A Death Eater tried to stop us but sh—he got Petrified." He had almost given his aunt away. "I took the Firebolt to get us here."

"Good," Fred said, standing. "Now, if we can only get owls to the other Order member…thank God they weren't all at Grimmauld Place."

"Why was everyone else there?"

"Well, they had to leave the Burrow. It wasn't safe. Not that it makes a speck of difference now…"

"W-who all was there? Who—who di—" He looked up at Fred with helpless eyes, unable to finish.

"Hermione's parents," Fred said. "And…and Bill."

A wild, tortured, animalistic screech sounded from the back. Molly sat against the far wall, rocking back and forth wildly, her arms held as if she were cradling a baby. "Bill, Billy, William Jacob Weasley, Bill, my big strong Billy, my baby boy…"

"We don't know what to do about her," George said dully. "They seem to want to torture us first. You know, stoke their egos before they kill us. Dad's got some damage, too—broken bones—and Ginny…"

"Why aren't you taking them to St. Mungo's?" Petunia asked,

"Too dangerous," George said, unaware that Petunia shouldn't know about the hospital's existence. "Death Eaters might be watching the Floo Network. They could sabotage us midway."

"I brought my Invisibility Cloak," Harry said, standing up unsteadily. "We can use that."

"Here," Petunia said hurriedly, proffering the cloak. Fred unfolded it with a snap of his wrists and went for Ron; George followed him, and together they managed to get the wincing, half-conscious Ron to stand.

"Come back with the Cloak!" Petunia said, as the three went for the fireplace.

"We're not stupid, Mrs. Dursely," Fred said, and the three disappeared as he spread the Cloak over them. A flash of green flame flared and then died as George yelled "St. Mungo's Hospital!"


	3. St Mungo's Hospital

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter

* * *

St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries

* * *

Harry pulled the Invisibility Cloak off himself, Petunia, and Hermione in his arms as he heard the bustling noises of a hospital. Throwing the cloak aside, he jogged forward bearing the last injured.

"Miss!" He stopped before the receptionist's desk, panic making his breath short. "Miss, my friend, she needs to get to the fourth floor."

"Another for the fourth floor!" the witch sniffed, indignant, signaling for a pair of wizards to come forward with a gurney. "What have you people been doing?"

"You don't wanna know," Harry murmured, as the two wizards came forward to take Hermione from his arms. He swayed, half tempted to follow the gurney past the double doors the wizards pushed Hermione through.

"I've got to send an owl to Dumbledore or something…" he heard Petunia mutter from behind him.

He wheeled around, eyes snapping fire with pent up anger and frustration. "And you!"

Petunia jumped, shaken out of her musings.

"You, with your magical stirring spoon and knowing about the Floo network and saying you won't let me die! What are you playing at?"

"Harry, shut up. Don't cause a disturbance."

"Yeah, that's all I ever do, isn't it?" Harry snarled. "Cause a disturbance. I've been a nuisance to you ever since you took me in! If you hated me so much, why didn't you just throw me out?"

"Harry, don't be stupid. I don't hate you."

"Yeah? Well, you must be a damn good actress, 'cause you've sure had me fooled for the past fifteen years!" Petunia opened her mouth to reply, but Harry cut her off. "Just forget it! Just leave me alone."

There was complete silence. Petunia stared at Harry with wide, astonished eyes as he glared back at her, green eyes cold with fury and hate.

_"Just forget it! Leave me alone."_

_"Petunia, come on, honey. Go back to your flat; Amelia and Hestia will look after you—"_

_"Stay away from me! I never want to see you again!"_

_"Petunia!"_

_"Go away!"_

"Do you want to know why my stirring spoon did magic, Harry?" she asked quietly. He regarded her sullenly. "Because it's a wand. I'm a witch."

"I don't know why you're f-cking with me like this, but I'm not gonna put up with—"

"Shut up, Harry, and give me two minutes!" Petunia shouted, stunning Harry into silence. "My spoon did magic because my old wand is the stem. I threw out everything magical when I left that world except my wand. I thought I might need it one day."

"You told me you were never magical, and you hated everything that was!"

"I lied. I've been lying to you since you were dropped on my doorstep."

"_That_ I have no trouble believing."

"I told you to be quiet. Do you want the truth, or don't you?" Again, Harry made no reply besides a morose gaze. "Your mother and I were New Magic…that's the polite term for "Mudblood". We were twins, which I'm sure I never told you, and we were friends with Amelia Bones, Marlene McKinnon, Emmeline Vance, and Hestia and Diana Jones—sisters. Do you know any of them?"

"I know _most_ of them."

"Diana married Apollo Lovegood, I believe. Emmeline and Hestia were together, but I don't know what came out of it."

"And why's that?"

Petunia winced. "There were…circumstances, ones that I couldn't get past, so I decided to give up magic. Lily disagreed with me; we fought, and I parted with her on bad terms. I wasn't there when you were born. She wrote to me, but I never wrote back."

"And what were these "circumstances" that made you disown my mother?"

"None of your business."

"Oh, and you being a witch isn't my business?"

"I told you. I gave up magic. I found the most Muggle man I could and married him as soon as I could, had his child, and settled down. The last I ever heard of Lily was the letter Dumbledore left me when you were brought to my door.

"What letter?"

"He left me a letter explaining what had happened, and that Lily had listed me as your godmother to take you in should anything happen to you and that Sirius character."

A pang hit Harry's chest at the mention of his godfather. "And what about what you've been putting me through? You and Dudley and Uncle Vernon, you've all been practically _abusing_ me for fifteen years!"

"That…that I have no excuses for. Just that…you were a reminder of the circumstances that made me leave the magical world and the sister it took from me. I suppose I thought…if I could make you hurt…"

"_You_ would feel better," Harry finished, and Petunia looked away. "And Uncle Vernon? Does he know about this?"

"God, no. Neither does Dudley. I wouldn't dream of telling either of them."

"Is there anything else I don't know about? Missing siblings? A disowned cousin, perhaps?"

"Harry—"

"Look, I can't deal with this right now, okay?"

"Where are you going?" Petunia asked, starting for Harry as he turned away.

"The top floor. I need to not be around you right now."

* * *

The bright and cheery colors of the hospital gift shop seemed to mock him. Had he been truly paying attention, he would have wanted to do them a turn much like what he had done to Dumbledore's office a month ago.

A meeting of arm on arm snapped him from his furious reverie and his head shot up. He was looking into the face of an elderly witch. She was taller than he, with long black hair, and her tanned, wrinkled face held a friendly smile and dark blue eyes sporting the clouded, blank look he had seen in the Longbottom's eyes.

"Sorry," Harry muttered gruffly.

"Hello! Can I help you!" she asked brightly.

"Um, no. Thank you, though."

"Hello! Can I help you!"

"Oleta!"

A slightly frazzled witch, her uniform giving her away as an employee, rounded the aisle. "Oleta, dear, don't bother customers," she said, taking hold of the woman's arm. "Here, go look after aisle twelve. Just don't touch anything, okay?"

"Okay!" Oleta said, like a child who's just been convinced to do a previously designated unpleasant task now that ice cream had been promised, and scuttled away, humming a tune.

"Poor darling," the witch murmured, clicking her tongue. "To have that brilliant Ravenclaw mind go to waste…"

"Who was she?" Harry asked.

"You don't know?" She turned on him, looking scandalized. Harry noted that his bangs must be covering his scar, otherwise she'd abandon her gossip to fawn over him. "That was Oleta Dumbledore."

"Oleta…_who_?"

"Albus Dumbledore's wife! Have you been living under a rock? Oh, it's such a shame, what happened," she continued before Harry could counter her. "You-Know-Who got her one day. Used Cruciatus on her until her mind was completely gone. Dumbledore got there before he could kill her and managed to drive him away, but Oleta's never been quite right since…she's just like a child nowadays. We let her roam the gift shop since she's harmless. Dumbledore's always here in the summer, and he was here for a bit when he was on the run from Fudge, but he hasn't been coming around much lately. Must have to do with You-Know-Who, know that he's—" There was a loud crash from a few aisles over. "Oh, Oleta!" The witch abandoned Harry immediately, taking off towards the sound. "Oleta, don't touch anything!"

'That must be why Dumbledore always looks so sad,' Harry thought suddenly, the first coherent thought he'd had since the witch told him Oleta's last name. In every single memory he had of Dumbledore, the old man's face was invariably long and drawn, even when he smiled or laughed.

All of a sudden Harry felt a rush of guilt fill his chest as he remembered his tirade in Dumbledore's office just last month. Had any of those things he'd demolished indiscriminately been gifts from Oleta, souvenirs from their life together?

"Harry!" a male voice called. "Oi, Harry!"

Harry's head snapped around to see George standing at the entranceway to the aisle, red-eyed and panting. His stomach dissolved. "Are…are they—?"

"No!" George yelled, joy managing to crack its way into his voice. "No one's dead. Ron and Dad are pulling through just fine. And Mum…she's coming back to reality."

"What about Ginny and Hermione?" Harry demanded.

"I don't know about Ginny yet," George said, feeling a pang at the thought of his baby sister, "but Hermione's awake. Her head injury wasn't as bad as we thought. She says she wants to see you."

"I'm there."


	4. Old Love, New Hate

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter

* * *

Old Love, New Hate

* * *

"Harry!" Hermione weakly managed to pull herself up into a sitting position against the pillow as Harry entered her room. A black eye patch covered her right eye, and fresh bandages protected her skull.

"Hi, Hermione," Harry returned cautiously, shutting the door gently behind him. "How are you feeling?"

"Me? Oh, I'm fine. Just fine." She smiled broadly at him, and Harry felt his nerves begin to falter. "How's Ron? And Ginny and all them?"

"George thinks they're all going to pull through. Ginny isn't awake yet, though."

"That's good. Really good. Those Death Eaters aren't that great at eating death, are they?"

"Hermione?"

"Harry, can you go to that nightstand over there?" Hermione asked as if he had not spoken. "There's a piece of parchment and some ink over there, with a quill. Will you bring that to me, please?"

"Hermione…"

"Now, please," Hermione said, her voice hardening slightly.

Harry scampered to obey, feeling a knot of dread in his stomach. Hermione snatched the paper out of Harry's hand, nearly giving him a paper cut.

"Dear Viktor," Hermione wrote aloud, pressing the parchment against her knees. "It's Hermione. My parents have killed my parents."

"What?"

"I heard them," Hermione continued without pause. "I heard them screaming."

"Hermione, give me that quill," Harry said, reaching over and taking it by the stem.

"I heard them _screaming_!" Hermione shrieked, as Harry wrested the quill from her hand, causing a long black trail of ink to streak across the paper. Unhindered, Hermione dipped her finger in the inkwell and began writing with her fingernail.

"I'll kill them. I'll even use Avada Kedavra if I have to. I'll kill them for what they've done."

"Hermione!" Harry ripped the parchment out from under Hermione's hands, letting the inkwell fall to the floor and spill its contents at his feet. He dropped the paper and grabbed Hermione's shoulders.

"They killed my mum and dad."

"Hermione, don't get worked up, you'll hurt yourself!"

"I don't care!" Hermione screeched, struggling to free herself from Harry's grasp. "I don't care, I don't give a damn, they killed my mum and dad, they deserve to die, I'll kill them, I'll…kill them…"

She stopped thrashing for a few seconds and sat, silent, before throwing herself against Harry's chest and sobbing, digging her fingernails into his shirt as if it were a lifeline preventing her from drowning. Harry wrapped his arms around her as she continued to cry, harder and harder with each passing second. Awkwardly he rocked back and forth, like how he thought a mother might comfort a baby.

"We're both orphans now, Harry," Hermione whispered, tears falling into her mouth as she spoke. "My parents killed my mum and dad."

"Hermione, I don't understand," Harry said quietly, not relinquishing his hold on her. "Was it…was it suicide?"

"No!" Hermione yelled, pulling back and grabbing Harry by the wrists. "Harry…Harry, I'm adopted."

"_Pardon_?"

"Aaron Granger is my dad's brother, and my biological father. He's married to Belicia Crouch. They're pure-bloods, but my dad was a Squib, and my mum was a Muggle. My parents…both sets of them hated each other. Aaron and Belicia took up with Voldemort. My parents had to go into hiding. I was brought to live with them in November after my first birthday, after you brought down Voldemort."

"When did you find out about all this?" Harry demanded, bewildered.

"When I was ten," Hermione said, misery taking over her again. "I found my birth certificate on accident. Ever wonder why I've worked so hard to be perfect? To prove that I'm not Aaron and Belicia's child. My aunt and uncle are my parents. I _refuse_ to have parents that are Death Eaters."

Harry's brain was frantically trying to register Hermione's confession. "Why did you never say anything to Ron and me?"

"If _your_ parents were Death Eaters, would you say anything? I didn't want anyone to know. I didn't even tell Malfoy to make him shut up about me being a Mudblood. If Aaron and Belicia were my alternatives, I'd prefer to be that way. Oh, God, Harry, after they killed my parents, I saw them. I screamed at them; told them I'd rather die than join them. Belicia tried to kill me; she sent a lamp at my head."

"How could she…how can a mother try to kill her own child?"

"Death Eaters don't care about other people's lives. You saw how Bellatrix…her own _cousin_, and the only thing she felt bad about was failing her Dark Lord. Aaron and Belicia are the same way. All they give a damn about is _power_. Why should a trivial thing like a daughter or a brother mean anything to them?"

Impulsively Harry threw his arms around Hermione and held her to his chest once more, feeling tears soaking through his shirt.

"We're nothing…we're nothing at all to them…"

* * *

"I have to tell you, Petunia, that it's disappointing to see Harry now."

"Headmaster, I—" Petunia started.

"I understand your reasoning, Petunia, I truly do," Dumbledore interrupted gently. "That was a terrible thing to have happen. What Lucius did was unforgivable."

"It wasn't just Malfoy. It was…it was _him_, too."

"He didn't—"

"He didn't stop them. He laughed. They were dying, and he _laughed_."

"I won't deny facts, Petunia," Dumbledore said quietly. "But you have to know, that now he's in league with us, and you _are_ going to have to see him again."

Petunia's eyes widened as her jaw dropped.

"Headmaster, I can't do that. I can't see him again. I don't know if I'd be able to control myself—"

"You must, Petunia. Unless you want yours, and Harry's, lives to end, you must."

"I…I can't."

"You must."

* * *

"Where's Ronald? Where is he?"

The double doors to the hospital lobby burst open and Luna rushed in, hair even more disheveled than usual. The attack at 12 Grimmauld Place was all over the news, as even an Unplottable building showed up if it exploded. Luna knew it was the site of the Order's headquarters, as her father had just recently been inducted, and she knew the Weasleys were part of the organization.

Immediately she had thought of Ron, and panicked; begging and begging until her father agreed to Apparate her to St. Mungo's and nearly crying with gratitude when he finally gave in.

"Miss, if you don't mind, this is a hospital," the Welcome Witch said, regarding her with obvious disdain.

"I need to see Ronald Weasley!" Luna yelped, collapsing against the receptionist's desk.

"I'm afraid he's in a delicate condition and can see no one until his Healer approves visitation."

"What happened? What's wrong with him?"

"Legally I cannot disclose that information. Kindly take a seat, and I will alert you when he is allowed visitors."

Luna turned away, tears threatening to leak out between her tightly shut eyelids. All sorts of terrible images were running through her mind. Ron on the ground, his entrails leaking out. Ron hanging from the ceiling, bleeding to death.

"Hey, you."

Luna jumped, her mind quickly returning to earth.

"You're Looney Lovegood, aren't you?" Fred continued, as Luna snapped around.

"My name is Luna Artemis Rhiannon Aysel Qamar Bulan Shashi Channary Hilargi Ixchel Jaci Lucine Marama Monday Yuzuki Nguyet Tanith Lovegood," Luna said indignantly, ignoring Fred's shocked face at her name. "And you are Frederick James Weasley. Ronald's brother. How is he?"

"He's not awake yet, but he's holding up."

"That's good." Relief flooded her and swept her dreamy expression back into her eyes. Well used to the type of confused stare Fred was sending her, she idly floated to the nearest chair and sat, letting herself daydream.

* * *

"They should be here soon," Dumbledore said, standing up and shutting his pocket watch.

"Who is?" Petunia asked suspiciously.

"The Order. All of them."

"All of them?" Petunia repeated, aghast. "Even—"

"Yes."

"How _could_ you?!"

Before Dumbledore could answer, the body of Remus Lupin tumbled out the hospital's fireplace. Petunia's face went from horrified to relieved that he had been the first to appear.

The last Marauder, in contrast, was whey-faced and grim.

"Who was hurt? Your letter was vague," he directed at Dumbledore.

"Hermione Granger, and Ron, Ginny, Molly, and Arthur Weasley were all injured," Dumbledore informed him.

"And Harry?"

"He escaped unhurt."

"That's good to hear," a new, younger, female voice said, as Nymphadora Tonks followed Remus from the fireplace. Dumbledore's quick eyes saw Tonks' hand lightly graze Remus' own, and he sent a questioning glance to Remus. Remus caught the look, and with steely resolve firmly took Tonks' hand.

Dumbledore bit back a comment. If it meant Remus was finally over his last love…

From the doorway walked Apollo Lovegood, who immediately went to his daughter to receive a hug and a breathless, "He's all right". Following him was Mad-Eye Moody. He glanced at Petunia, regarding her without so much as a nod, and then turned back to Dumbledore.

"Who's dead?" Moody asked bluntly.

"Bill Weasley, and Paul and Helen Granger."

"The Grangers? Don't tell me it was those devils Aaron and Belicia."

"It seems likely.

Petunia's attention was drawn from the conversation at a small puff sound from the fireplace. She turned quickly to see who had arrived.

"You."

She reared back her hand and brought it quickly and solidly against his face.

"Aunt Petunia!"

Petunia turned her head. Harry stood a few feet away from her, mouth agape, having been forced out of Hermione's room by her matronly Healer in time to witness the whole scene.

"Oh, yes, I should introduce you two," she said bitterly. "This is my nephew, Harry Potter. Harry, meet my ex-fiancé. Severus Snape."


	5. Justice's Fee

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter

* * *

Justice's Fee

* * *

Harry's jaw dropped. His eyes flashed back and forth between his aunt, standing rigidly with cold hatred in her eyes, and Snape, who again was expressionless, though his face slowly and steadily gaining a red color.

"Ex-…excuse me?"

"God, what has Harry done to anger You?" Fred asked from behind Snape. "Is there some sin we know naught of?"

"Shut up, Weasley," Snape snapped without turning around. "And believe me, Potter, the fact that you are related to her is sickening to me."

"Really," Petunia spat. "I thought it was my _dirty blood_ that was sickening to you."

"I apologize," Dumbledore said placidly, as Hestia, Emmeline, Sturgis, and Mundungus filed or tripped into St. Mungo's lobby. "I know this matter is very important to you both, but we have something more pressing to the present to attend to right now."

"Yes, sir," Petunia muttered sullenly, and Snape nodded.

As Kingsley and McGonagall joined the circle, Dumbledore moved and beckoned Harry to join them. With a nod and a gesture of his hand Fred, George, and Luna were also invited.

"Might we have privacy?" Dumbledore asked, addressing the Welcome Witch.

"There's a Room of Requirement right through those doors, sir," she said, pointing to another set of double doors.

"Thank you."

Harry glanced at Fred, who shrugged his confusion, as they followed Dumbledore into the Room of Requirement. As the last person entered, the doors shut and then disappeared. A suddenly formed vent became the only source of air in the windowless room.

"As you all know," Dumbledore said, turning to the congregation, "12 Grimmauld Place was attacked earlier this evening. We have lost three people: Paul and Helen Granger, and Bill Weasley."

Tonks gasped. Bill had been three years her senior at Hogwarts.

"Molly, Arthur, Ron, and Ginny Weasley are all injured, as is Hermione Granger. Harry was attacked, but escaped unharmed, with his aunt."

"Good," Moody growled. "Less dead than injured. Better than the first war."

"Minerva had brought to my attention only recently that there may be a spy amongst us," Dumbledore continued. "Naturally, I did not want to believe this, but the fate of the Order comes before my own personal wishful thinking. I removed the Fidelius Charm. And the Black house has been destroyed. My suspicions were confirmed."

"But that means—" Remus started.

"Yes. Someone betrayed our whereabouts. Standing in this room is a Death Eater spy."

Harry's eyes went immediately to Snape, as did Petunia's. Their eye remained locked on Snape's face, searching for a twitch of muscle or gleam of eye that would mark him as the traitor. They were treated to a grimace. Petunia chewed the inside of her bottom lip and turned back to Dumbledore. Harry redirected his gaze as well.

"I ask, I fear futilely, that the person who betrayed us come forward.

There was no movement, except for the flicker of accusing and furious eyes.

"It's my misfortune to have inducted or trained superb Occlumensi," Dumbledore said with a sigh. "To search your minds would be folly. So, I adjourn this meeting. And, I'm saddened to say, I will be watching all of you."

Nobody moved. Nobody seemed to know if leaving was the right thing to do.

"You're excused, you know," Dumbledore said with a faint smile. "If you'll pardon me, I must attend to socks."

A confused look swept over the Order's collective faces. Dumbledore nodded his head good-bye and turned, making towards the newly formed double doors.

A dim memory ignited in Harry's brain. Five years ago. The Mirror of Erised. "I see myself holding a pair of thick, woolen socks. One can never have enough socks. Another Christmas has come and gone and I didn't get a single pair. People will insist on giving me books."

"Professor, wait!" Harry called, jogging after Dumbledore. "I think I know something—about socks."

Even more confused eyes were cast upon him, but Harry ignored them and chased after the headmaster.

* * *

"Again, I must give you credit. You have a special knack for finding out about things you really needn't or shouldn't. So tell me, Harry, how did you come across my wife?"

"I was wandering around the gift shop and I…kinda ran into her. Some lady told me her story."

"Ah. That gossipmonger nurse of hers," Dumbledore guessed, though there was no anger in his voice. "I suppose you know why she is here?"

"He got her…Voldemort did."

Dumbledore fell silent for a good length of the trip up the stairs. He startled Harry when he spoke again.

"I met her in August of 1937. She was knitting socks, hoping to send them to wizard friends in China for distribution—war with the Japanese had broken out, and they _do_ say to keep one's feet dry if one wants to live through a war. As a result, I dubbed her "Socks". I suppose you could say we hit it off directly. To be frank, Harry, I adored her, complete with her daughter from a previous disastrous non-marital relationship."

"You have a stepdaughter?"

Dumbledore nodded. "My wife's maiden name was McGonagall. You can fathom who her daughter is."

"_Professor McGonagall_ is your stepdaughter?"

"Yes. Well, as it went, I joined the Allies in the Second World War. We continued to court when I came home on furlough, and after I defeated Grindelwald in 1945, I came home and married her. I taught at Hogwarts; she was a seamstress. We together founded the Order when Voldemort rose to power in 1970. But then, nine years later, Voldemort discovered where we were hidden. Only she was home when he attacked. He…tortured her, attempting to get information about me. I had tutored her in Occlumency, and the torture was so terrible that it became perfectly ingrained in her mind, and it proved impossible to draw information from her using the Imperius Curse. Finding her useless, he was about to kill her when I arrived and forced him off. I daresay, Harry, that the incident could well be the reason why he is so afraid of me."

Dumbledore fell silent once more. Harry was caught in a whirlwind of hatred for Voldemort and a mixture of pity for and pride in Dumbledore.

"Someone betrayed us," Dumbledore said suddenly.

"Betcha it was Wormtail," Harry said bitterly, remembering his own hatred. Pettigrew had been partly responsible for the deaths of James, Lilly, and even Sirius, his own friends. What qualms would he possibly have about killing the Headmaster's wife?

"I do not think so," Dumbledore said. "Betraying my wife is one thing that I _would_ put past him."

"Why?"

"Because Wormtail, unlike Voldemort, understands love."

Harry opened his mouth to question further, but cut himself off as he realized they had approached the doorway to the top floor.

"Betimes my wife remembers me," Dumbledore said, peering through the foggy round windows on the door. "I'm afraid I most desperately need her to recognize me now."

"Sir, do you want me to leave?"

"If you wouldn't mind, yes."

Halfway down the stairs Harry turned and looked back. Dumbledore was still standing at the doorway, hands clasped tightly behind his back.


	6. Tentative Steps

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter

**Author's Notice:** To be honest, I'm about ready to give up. I managed to get up to chapter twenty of Deathly Hallows, and I would have gone even further, but I can't bring myself to read further.

I'm angry.

Yes, I'm one of those dreaded H/Hr shippers. This story isn't H/Hr, but I love that pairing all the same. H/Hr was shot down in HBP, and the fans' feelings were trampled on in the IoD (_you_ try being called laughed at and called militant and delusional, and see how you like it), but you know what? I pushed on. I figured, hey. I could deal with R/Hr and H/G. I'll just write lots of fanfic. I won't let Melissa and Emerson get me down.

But now…

Rowling let me down. Big time. I don't care that in canon it will never be H/Hr. Screw shipping. This has to do with respecting her fans. You've got to be shitting me, making a Horcrux designed to show Ron's biggest fears take the shape of Harry and Hermione _kissing_? This woman is not an ignoramus. She knows this is a sensitive issue. But instead of bypassing any mention of H/Hr, which she _should have done out of simple respect for her fans' feelings_, she throws the issue directly in our faces. She has to make the only canon H/Hr take place between two fake images with freaking _Voldemort's soul_ in them. How messed up is that? She's basically saying that H/Hr is as bad as Voldemort.

And the thing was, she didn't _have_ to do that. We've never gotten any indication that Ron was jealous of Harry and Hermione's relationship. Hermione and Krum's, sure, but not Harry and Hermione's. And subtext aside, there's no evidence that Harry loved Hermione like anything more than a sister. So this wasn't an obstacle Rowling had to destroy. She brought it up by herself out of nowhere and shoved it in the fan's faces, and pretty much laughed at the H/Hr fans in their little lifeboats as their already sinking ship had another canon-ball shot into it (if you'll excuse the imagery).

I might just be upset because of other things going on in my life. But regardless, I can't help being angry at how _mean_, actually _mean_ that was. I've always thought Rowling was sort of condescending and holier-than-thou but I didn't really peg her as an unkind person. But she's just proven to me, once and for all, that she doesn't give a crap about her fan's feelings. And I'm sick of being shat on by this woman like a rug by an incontinent cat.

Part of me just wants to give up right now and delete all my Potter fanfiction. But I've been putting a lot of thought into the fic and I have so many things I want to do with it, and plus I don't want to let you guys down by suddenly stopping. I don't really know what to do. My Potter love is probably done when I've finished this fic (in any form).

Well, anyway, I hope you like this chapter. And part of me hopes this isn't the last one.

* * *

Tentative Steps

* * *

It felt good to breathe fresh air again, Ron minded, as he took his first step out of St. Mungo's. Not that it was actually a step, as he, still too weak from blood loss to walk, was being pushed out of the hospital in a wheelchair, steered by none other than Luna Lovegood.

He would be hard pressed to forget his first roll around the hospital. Luna had caught sight of him, and nearly upended her chair running to him.

"Ronald! I'm so glad you're okay! I was getting so worried; I was thinking you might need some unicorn blood, but that would've made you worse, so I thought I might have to get the liver of a Bent-Back Marvalian—it's an excellent tonic for the blood, you know—but they're _dreadful_ hard to find because they live in Tibet, and so very few _ever_ migrate to England, so I thought I could use the money for Sweden to go to Tibet, but—"

She had only stopped when a passing Healer informed her that she was getting far too worked up for someone in Ron's condition, at which point she gasped loudly and silenced herself with her wand.

Now she was pushing his wheel chair, humming a made-up tune, her wand, which was held in one of her hands against the handlebars, tapping his head erratically as she swayed side to side with the tune of this imagined beat.

"I'm so glad I didn't need the liver of a Bent-Back Marvalian," she said. "They're considered sacred, you know, to the Tibetan monks, so it would have been rather hard to escape with one. Those Healers knew what they were doing. Perhaps I should be a Healer."

"Yesterday you wanted to be a slug," Ron commented dryly.

"Yes, it must be interesting to be a slug, don't you think? Just sliding away on the ground, covered in your own slime. Of course, it's not unusual for the slug, but how interesting would it be for a human to see from its point of view?"

"I don't think it would be much of a treat," he replied tartly.

"I do."

She removed her wandless hand from the handlebar and began toying with his hair. The wand was still tapping his head in a steady, rhythmic time signature.

"You should never, ever judge someone until you walk a mile in their shoes," she said sagely. "I want to have a go at being everything in the world, except, of course, a Death Eater."

Luna fell silent after those last few words, and Ron was grateful that she had, not just because her talk confused and disoriented him, but also because at the thought of Death Eaters, his thoughts went reeling back to the night his life was blown straight to Hell.

* * *

Ginny heard it first. A very faint ticking around just outside the door. For the first time ever, Ron appreciated that his father knew about Muggles.

"That sounds astoundingly like something on the Muggle cartoons," Arthur said. "They call it a…let me think…a "bome" or a "bomb" or something, and it causes great big…explosions…"

Molly stood, shoving back her chair, not flinching with the others as it made a horrible screeching noise against the hardwood floors.

"Ron, Ginny, get upstairs," she said, in a voice that demanded and never failed to receive obedience. "Bill, you watch the stairs. Arthur…"

"Yes," Arthur acknowledged, glaring intently at the door. Ron grabbed Ginny's hand and dragged her up the stairs as Molly walked to her husband's side. She reached into her robes and unsheathed her wand. She was matched by Arthur's own. Both wands pointed directly at the door.

Ron and Ginny squatted at the corner of the first landing up the stairs, squinting down to see their parents. Fresh aches were beginning to form on Ron's body; the welts left by the brains were beginning to show.

"Ron!" Ginny whispered fiercely, grabbing his hand. He hadn't realized that he'd been wincing.

"If you're out there," Arthur called loudly, his voice strong even as his whole frame shook, "enter the house and fight."

"Arthur!" Molly whispered.

"It'll happen anyway," Arthur replied softly. "Well?" he yelled at the door. "What are you waiting for?"

Complete silence, save for the ticking, was his answer. Bill moved but Molly stayed him with a flick of her hand.

"Dad, do you think…?" Bill whispered.

"Shh." Arthur cocked his head, listening intently. The ticking grew louder, quicker, more menacing, and then…it stopped.

"Dad?" Ginny called down nervously.

"_Get down!_"

Arthur jumped on Molly and pinned her to the floor, shielding her with himself. Bill dropped, and Ron threw Ginny back, bouncing after he and holding her to his chest, as the door blew backward with a tornado-like fury.

The welts on Ron's arms and neck suddenly exploded with pain, as if dozens of jellyfish were stinging him simultaneously.

There was a clattering as scattered, half-destroyed two-by-fours were kicked.

"My, my," a female voice said. "I haven't been in this house since my graduation party, do you remember, darling? Dear old Sirius did us the courtesy of changing my caviar into locusts that attacked Mother's wig. Well, it certainly has taken a fall from grace, hasn't it?"

"It's Bellatrix," Ginny whispered, clinging to Ron. He didn't answer. His mind seemed to have been wiped out by the pain.

"Arthur! Molly! How _lovely_ to see you again!" the same sickly sweet voice continued. "Though I must say, you look a bit worse off than when I last saw you. Living in that shack might be the problem. And to think, Arthur, your mother was Cedrella Black, my father's own aunt!"

"My mother was Cedrella Weasley, and was a sight too good for this house," Arthur answered steely.

"Oh, well. No time to argue over family, don't you think?" Bellatrix continued cheerfully, twirling her wand with her fingers like a baton. "I had the pleasure of seeing your son and daughter writhe in agony back in June. I wonder if they learned that from you. Let's find out."

"Silencio!" Molly shrieked from the floor, wand pointed at Bellatrix's throat. The spell hit her where, had she been male, her Adam's apple would have been. Eye snapping with fury, Belaltrix grabbed her husband and thrust him forward.

"Wingardium Leviosa!"

"Prote—" Arthur started, but before the word left his mouth he was suspended in mid-air.

"Locomotor Arthur Weasley!"

"_Arthur!_" Molly screeched, as Rodolphus slammed Arthur's body into the wall. He collapsed, unmoving.

"Damned annoying woman…" a third Death Eater muttered. "Avada Kedavra!"

Molly shrieked as the spell exploded from the tip of the Death Eater's wand. Her shriek was suddenly cut off as a body flung itself in front of her.

"_Bill!_" Ginny screamed, her fingers digging harder into Ron's shirt. Tears poured from her eyes like drizzling rain. "Oh my God, oh my God, Bill, oh my God…"

Molly stared at the body of her son, eyes glassed over, mouth slightly open, looking as if everything she had seen and heard had gone through her mind and out the other end.

Ron's mind numbed with the pain of the welts. Ginny's sobbing was the only thing keeping him from passing out. And suddenly, Ginny had detached herself and sprinted down the stairs, tears flying off her face as she unsheathed her wand.

"Ginny!" Ron yelled, jumping up, immediately wishing he had not when the excruciating pain doubled. Forcing himself to ignore the throbbing ache, he forced himself to run down the stairs after her.

"C-Crucio!" Ginny half-yelled, half-whimpered, pointing her wand at the unknown Death Eater.

"Protego!" he said carelessly, flicking the spell off of himself. "Very weak, little girl. Very weak, indeed. You want a strong curse? How's this feel for you?" He flicked his wand lazily. "Phthisis!"

Ginny stopped instantly. Her face turned a sickly shade of white as she sunk to her hands and knees on the floor. She coughed, and from her open mouth poured a stream of blood.

"Expelliarmus!" Ron shouted, pointing his wand at the Death Eater,

"Reverti!" a female voice cried, and Ron's wand was sent flying from his hand. Bellatrix had performed the counter-charm. "Crucio!"

Ron's head spun in a circle. He could feel blood pouring from his welt marks, streaming down his arms and legs. Darkness was claiming him; he swayed on his feet and collapse, head painfully crashing onto a stair step. Time and space ceased to exist.

He had awoken in Fred and George's shop as George tried to pull splinters from the destroyed house out of his wounds.

* * *

"Ronald?"

Luna's wand tapping against his head brought his mind back to the present, and his eyes once again saw what was in front of him.

"Yeah?"

"Are you feeling quite all right?"

"Yeah. I guess."

She was still toying with his hair, and as her hand touched his head, he felt a shiver pass through him.

* * *

The Burrow had a mixed ambience of mourning and welcome. Sunlight filled the air, but the pond was letting off a cool sea breeze, making it an abnormally cold temperature for the beginning of August.

"Mère Weasley!"

A stunningly beautiful girl of nineteen, long, platinum blonde hair swinging behind her, ran out from the front door.

"Fleur?" Harry sounded, slightly dumbfounded. A distant memory revealed that Fleur had been dating Bill since last year.

"Oh, Mère Weasley, I 'ave been so worried about you, and Père Weasley, and mon freres and mon soeur!" Fleur cried, tears starting in her eyes.

Harry sent a questioning glance at Hermione.

"She said she was worried about Mother Weasley and Father Weasley, and her brothers and sister," Hermione explained in a whisper. "Look." She pointed to Fleur's hand, which sported a silver band and a small diamond.

"Fleur, how good of you to stick around," Molly said tiredly.

"Frere Charlies, 'e is 'ere, as well," Fleur said. "And also…"

"Hey," a male voice said from behind Fleur, and Charlie stepped out onto the small flight of stairs leading up to the house. A shadow swayed against the doorway, and another male hesitantly joined him.

"Percy?" Molly said, sucking in her breath.

"Mom," Percy said, and bit his lip. "I'm sorry…I didn't find out anything."

"The Death Eaters hiding in the Ministry may not have been involved," Arthur said resignedly. "They've had to become a lot more careful now that the truth's been exposed."

Ron sent a bewildered look at anyone who looked at him.

"Speaking of that, I don't know how long I can keep this up, now that I'm back for the funeral…"

"We'll figure that out later," Molly said. "Let's get inside, dears," she said, addressing the group at large. "I need to sit down."

* * *

"Monsieur Dumbly-dore, 'e is very kind," Fleur said over the cup of steaming tea she held in her hand. "'E came 'ere just yesterday to make sure all was ready for your return from ze 'ospital."

"As Hagrid is so fond of saying: "Great man, Dumbledore"," Arthur said. He also held a mug of tea. Molly sat beside him, and they both sat across the kitchen table from Fleur.

"Mère Weasley, Père Weasley," Fleur said suddenly, reaching out and grabbing Molly's hand. "Bill and moi, we wished to wed. We were planning on announcing our engagement soon. But now, as 'e's gone… I 'ope you will not mind my leaving Eengland after ze funeral. My family awaits me, and I am sure zat zere are zese…Death Eaters…in my country, as well. I will stay in _contact_, of course."

"Of course, dear, you can go home," Molly said. "I just wish…I would've loved to see one of my children married before I die."

"Belle Mère Weasley, you are but forty-nine years," Fleur protested.

"I feel ninety-nine," Molly replied wearily. "Arthur, please take me to our bedroom. I need some rest, but I can't go upstairs…not to where his room is…"

"Of course, Molly," Arthur said, taking her free hand and lifting her from her chair.

Charlie, who had not made a single utterance the entire time they had been at the table, suddenly let out a strangled sob as Arthur and Molly disappeared into the next room. Fleur flung her arms around Charlie, buried her face in his shoulder, and sobbed with him.

* * *

"So you're telling me you've been a bloody _Order spy_ this whole time?"

"Yes," Percy said, with a watery yet proud smile at the incredulous look on Harry and Ron's faces. "All those years of being a rulebook-thumping stickler certainly taught me how to act like a perfect wanker, didn't they? I have to apologize about that letter…though I think it _was_ a perfect example of good acting on my part."

"It sure as hell _sounded_ like you," Ron grumbled.

"Language, little brother."

"So that fight with Dad…?"

"Staged. I wrote the script. That was quite good, too, if I do say so myself."

"It was bloody _brilliant_. Had me totally fooled."

"Mother often tells me I have a flair for acting," Percy said, somewhat proudly.

"You're _too_ good at acting," Ron asserted. "I really thought…I mean, you've always thought the twins were huge pains in the ass…and, well, _we_ thought the same about you. We're seriously thought you hated us."

"Hated you?" Percy asked flippantly, though his voice and face revealed a small hurt. "Well, Ron, if I didn't cut off contact as soon as I graduated due to all the little "pranks" the twins have played on me over the years, it stands to reason that I wouldn't _ever_ cut off contact, doesn't it?"

"Percy…"

"Let me make this clear, Ron," Percy said sharply, eyes narrowed. "No matter what you think, my family is important to me."

"I'm sorry," Ron blurted out, sincerely.

Percy sat back in his chair, folding his hands in his lap. "That's okay, Ron," he said quietly.

* * *

Ginny lay in her bed, staring at the ceiling. If she stared at a certain patch long enough, the woodwork changed shapes. Whether or not that was the work of the ghoul, she neither knew nor cared.

"Ginny, you're very quiet," Hermione said softly from a cot opposite to Ginny that Charlie had set up. Her injured eye was covered in a patch; the Healers had proclaimed the blindness irreversible.

"Am I not allowed to be?" Ginny asked, sitting up straight. She winced as the blood rushed to her head, but was immediately grateful she'd had blood enough left. "I'm seeing two of my brothers buried tomorrow. You're none so loud yourself, Hermione."

"I'm watching my parents being buried, too," Hermione snapped. "Be grateful I'm not screaming my head off."

Ginny bit the fleshy inside of her cheek, looking remorseful. "I'm sorry for being cross, Hermione."

Hermione shrugged. "No, I should be sorry. We're in the same boat."

"No, we're not. I mean, Bill is dead because of someone distantly related to us, but you…"

"Does it matter if they're my biological parents?" Hermione snapped, echoing Sirius's comment on Bellatrix a year prior. "They abandoned me when Voldemort fell, and then they killed the only people I could ever consider my parents. They are _slime_. They are nothing to me at all."

Ginny looked frightened. "Hermione, I'm sorry, I…"

Hermione released a heavy sigh. "Sorry."

"What?"

"Sorry, for snapping at you, again, for the second time in five minutes."

Hermione toyed with the comforter on the cot, and then stood abruptly.

"Hermione?"

"Excuse me."

"Where are you…"

Hermione had shut Ginny's door before she could finish her question.

* * *

Hermione took a deep breath. Her throat felt like it was slowly closing in on itself.

Her mouth opened to cough, but what came out was a choking sob. Tears began to pour from her eyes as she sank to the floor, burying her face in her hands. She slammed her fist on the floor, swearing loudly.

"How could you?" she demanded of her invisible biological parents. "_How could you?_"

In her mind's eyes Aaron and Belicia stood just out of arm's reach, giggling and smiling at her.

"God _damn_ it!!" Hermione screamed. "You God damned _shitheads_! How _could_ you?"

No one opened a door to look in on her. The silent, deferential reaction to her shouting was maddening. Her hands were on her skull and she was prepared to rip out strands of hair by the roots when three hard, pounding knocks resounded up the stairs from the front door.

She froze. The entire house did likewise, the same thread of fear running through each of them at the thought of just who might be at the door. Hermione clutched her wand, her hand shaking as she bit down on her lip.

"Who's there?" Harry's voice from the kitchen demanded, hiding its shake.

"It is Viktor," a voice, obviously unused to English, said from the other side. "I received a letter from Herm-own-ninny…ink splattered all over the page…"

Hermione tripped as she hastened to her feet, nearly tumbling down the stairs. She rounded the banister, wand still clutched in case he proved to be an imposter, and threw open the door.

"Who sent a letter to you?" she demanded.

"Herm-own-ninny." Viktor held his hand out. He brandished Hermione's ink-stained account of her parent's death that she had sent in another fit of madness during the past week. "And I heard the news…I order the International Prophet…"

"Viktor." Fresh tears lined her eyes, obscuring her vision. Clumsily she knocked the letter out of his hands and launched herself forward. Viktor caught her before she could sink to the threshold steps and held her tightly against himself, stroking her hair.

"I am sorry to hear this," he murmured, gently kissing the crown of her head. "So sorry…"

A wild, animalistic sob escaped from Hermione's mouth as she clung harder to Viktor, pawing his arms and shoulders and trying to reassure herself that he was there in the flesh and not an illusion born from wishful thinking. Viktor slipped one arm around the back of her thighs and the other across the middle of her back, picked her up, moved inside the house, sat down heavily on a couch, and held her as if she were a baby.

Ron's face was pink when Luna wheeled him through the living room to get him to his bedroom, but Hermione did not notice him. She did not notice anything through the salt water in her eyes. She only felt Viktor's hands protectively holding her around her hip or running through her hair.

* * *

It was raining, and the roof of the church was catching and amplifying the sound of each drop, deafening the congregation to the outside world though failing to do likewise with them. Ginny was sobbing hysterically again her crying father's chest. Beside Arthur, Molly was pale-faced, eyes wide and staring and dry. Fleur sat between Charlie and Percy, clutching both of their hands, intermittently letting out a sob followed by soft whimpering. Luna sat next to Ron, patting his hand and whispering about seraphim mice as he, deaf to her voice but clutching her other hand in a vice grip, allowed tears to pour freely down his face.

Weasleys who Harry hadn't been aware existed before this point filled up the pews behind them. Among them were Arthur's parents, Septimus and Cedrella, and his remaining brother, Palamedes. Harry could see an uncanny resemblance between Sirius and Cedrella, and nearly convinced himself that Sirius had been adopted and was really Cedrella's child as well.

People Ron had chokingly explained were his mother's relatives sat among the mourners, as well, but their number consisted of only three: Molly's father, Ignatius Prewett, his sister Muriel, and her husband Alphard Black. Harry resisted throwing himself at Alphard's feet and begging for every scrap of information about Sirius's young life as the old man could recollect.

Sitting with her arm around Hermione was her paternal grandmother, June Granger, a formidable-looking old woman who addressed Cedrella, Septimus, Alphard, and Muriel with a grim smile of recognition. Viktor sat on Hermione's other side, holding his girlfriend's hand.

Augusta Longbottom had arrived with her grandson. According to her sniff, Bill had cut her lawn for her and she liked the look in his eyes. Neville had murmured his condolences to Ron and Hermione, red-faced and teary-eyed when Hermione burst into tears.

"Hermione, dear, it's time to see…them…buried," June said, patting her granddaughter's hand. "Come."

"No." Hermione shook her head, face white where it was not red. "No, I want to stay…stay here."

"Herm-own-ninny, I vish to…I vill go in your stead." Viktor stood, and then knelt before Hermione, taking hold of her hand. "There are respects I vant to pay to them. Do you mind me doing so?"

Hermione shook her head and managed to smile at him. "I'm sorry you never got to meet them."

"I did not need to. I know you, and you are the greatest epitaph they could have."

He brushed a strand of hair away from her patched eye and kissed her forehead, before rising and offering his hand to help June to her feet. Harry noticed the inert form of his friend and went to her as Viktor and June departed, slinging his arm around her and sending a message with his eyes to Ron that he planned on remaining with her.

"Dad," Ron called as Arthur passed, half-carrying the squalling Ginny, "don't take her out there. I'm staying with Hermione and Harry; leave her with me. She's a mess."

Arthur regarded Ron's tear-streaked face dubiously, but silently obliged and released Ginny to Ron's arms. She hiccupped wildly as she sat on his lap; he rubbed her back as he wheeled towards Harry and Hermione.

"I…I want to stay with my friends, Gran," Neville said, plucking up his courage. Augusta acknowledged his bravery with a sniff and swept from the church.

"I do too, Daddy," Luna immediately said, seeing that the five had already assembled. Apollo nodded and followed the throng of mourners as Luna too her place beside Ron's wheelchair on the pew. She leaned over, resting her elbows on her knees and propping her chin on her fists.

"So…" Ron started awkwardly, unable to bear the silence that had permeated his world since he came home any longer. "So…how'd you do on your OWLs, Neville?"

Neville seemed to relaxe his stiff spine. "Better than I thought I would. I'm an A student. I got O's in Defense Against Dark Arts and Herbology, an E in Divination, A's in Transfiguration, History of Magic, Charms, and Astronomy, and a P in Potions. I expected a T, so I'm pretty happy about that." Weak laughter spread around the group. "Oh, and I got a new wand. Gran was actually really proud that I went to the Ministry with you guys, even if I destroyed Dad's wand. Said there's an Auror in me yet." He unsheathed a wand from his pocket. "Poplar tree and Unicorn hair, ten inches. How did the rest of you do?"

"I got O's in Care of Magical Creatures, Charms, Defense Against Dark Arts, Herbology, and Transfiguration, E in Potions, A in Astronomy, and T's in Divination and History of Magic," Harry recited lethargically. "I'm an E student."

"You got an E in _Potions_?!" Ron exclaimed. "I just barely scraped the bottom with an A. I got O's in Care of Magical Creatures, Defense Against the Dark Arts, and Herbology, E's in Charms and Transfiguration, A's in Astronomy and Potions, a D in History of Magic, and a T in Divination. I'm an A student. What about you, Hermione?"

"Let me guess," Harry said, smiling. "O, O, O…"

"O, another O, and I just saw another one, let me take a picture, O…" Ron added.

"There's goes a mother O and it's three little O's, followed by the big father O…"

"All right, enough," Hermione snapped. "I only got ten O's."

"You only take ten subjects," Ron shot back at her.

The quip closed the branch of conversation abruptly. Ron mentally flagellated himself for picking such a stilted topic.

"Harry, are you continuing the DA?" Luna asked suddenly.

"Of course," Harry said bitterly. "God knows who we'll get as a Defense teacher. Even if this one's any good, I'll continue with it. We need all the practice we can get."

"Good," Luna said, smiling.

"Good?" Hermione scoffed, staring down. "Do you get it at all, Luna? You're in _danger_ by sticking around with us. They know you were with us at the Ministry. You're _damn_ lucky that you and Neville weren't attacked."

"What good will backing down now do?" Luna returned simply. "Like you said, they know who we are. Besides, Death Eaters are a terrorist organization. They go after _everyone_, not just big names. Neville and I aren't safe anyway. I'd rather have an experienced teacher help us learn how to defend ourselves than wander about blindly."

"Yeah," Neville said with weak conviction. "What she said."

"If you think I'm quitting now after what they did to Bill, you're delusional," Ginny said through clenched teeth.

The sextet fell into silence again, a silence than Ron neither did nor wanted to break.


End file.
